


Glatt's Awful No Good Very Bad Day

by yetanotherunfinishedsymphony (thegreatestsun)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alexis | Quackity Needs a Hug, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Ghost Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, Jschlatt Angst (Video Blogging RPF), L'Manberg is Gone, My First Work in This Fandom, Toby Smith | Tubbo Has a Bad Time, he's hurting a lot :(, just a little bit, kinda?? a lot of kindas here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28734765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatestsun/pseuds/yetanotherunfinishedsymphony
Summary: Glatt stared down at the giant crater, a dull wind blowing through it, making an eerie high-pitched wail as it weaved through towers of rubble and the splintered wooden ruins, already rotting. There were stagnant puddles of water at the bottom, dirt and clay floating around in it, making it murky.Where was… Manberg?---So like, what if Glatt was really nice like Ghostbur-
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 196





	Glatt's Awful No Good Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> uh, hi! so i've never actually written a dsmp fic before, so it's very possible the characterization is just,,, awful lmao but uh! yeah! i hope you enjoy!
> 
> (oh important note, this is kind of an au where glatt is around, obviously, and if he was super nice and had memory problems like ghostbur :D)
> 
> cw for: mentions of violence, suicide, death, and missing teeth

Glatt stared down at the giant crater, a dull wind blowing through it, making an eerie high-pitched wail as it weaved through towers of rubble and the splintered wooden ruins, already rotting. There were stagnant puddles of water at the bottom, dirt and clay floating around in it, making it murky.

Where was… _Manberg?_ Where was the country, the country he'd worked so hard to gain? Where were the stone buildings, the walls, hell, the _people?_ Manberg had been full of people, all the time – ~~until it hadn’t.~~ But he didn’t want to think about that.

He didn’t exactly remember how he got here. He’d been asleep, asleep for _so long_ , and then… he’d heard people calling for him, and then he was here. Staggering up a hill, not sure how to walk when he kept wanting to float. Tubbo had been sat in the grass, peaceful, watching bees float around flowers. Then he’d seen Glatt and screamed.

He blinked slowly. What had he been thinking about, again? His memory was fuzzy. It was coming and going.

He was sat on one of the long obsidian beams that criss-crossed over the crater. Well, 'sat' wasn't exactly the right word, as he hadn't figured out how to stop hovering yet. But he was as close as he could get. It was a little awkward, but Quackity had asked if he wanted to sit. So, he did.

The crater was… deep. So deep he dreaded to think of what could’ve caused it. _Bedrock_ was poking out from beneath the few spaces that’d been cleared of rocks. _Surely_ , he must be remembering the location wrong, because this couldn’t be Manberg. It couldn’t be.

Quackity stood next to him, long, white, bloodstained apron having replaced the suit Glatt had expected him to be wearing. _Remembered_ him wearing, with pride. The bloody apron fluttered in the wind slightly, the same breeze shifting the loose hair that poked out of his beanie. His eyes were darker than Glatt remembered. It was unsettling.

If Glatt looked closely, he'd probably see blood speckling the side of Quackity's boot. Since when did he start wearing boots instead of normal shoes?

He didn't understand what had happened to Quackity. Where was the wide smile and the endless jokes? The glint in his eye that suggested he was about to cause trouble, and _love_ doing it? Whoever this Quackity was – harsh and cold and not caring about the blood on his hands – it wasn't who Glatt remembered. Glatt barely remembered anything, but the one constant was _Quackity_. His smile, his laughter…

The man stood next to him was making him question everything he knew was true. Maybe his memory was worse than he thought.

Glatt barely understood what had happened to _him_ , to be honest. He could vaguely remember a van, sitting on the floor. He’d been drinking… something. Hopefully water, if he’d been on the floor. The smell of… toast, maybe? A sharp pain, somewhere in his chest, and then he was awake, walking up the hill, and saw Tubbo. Who brought him to Quackity. Who brought him… here.

But one thing _still didn’t make sense_.

_Why was there a giant hole where Manberg should be?_

“Hey, Q,” he dared to ask, his voice echoing despite the wide-open sky above and around him. He almost regretted asking the question when Quackity stared down at him, with something like hate in his eyes. “where's Manberg?”

Quackity had a scar across his mouth now. It looked harsh, like someone had attacked him. Given him that ugly, harsh scar on purpose. And when he opened his mouth to speak, iron glittered in place of a few teeth.

“Gone.” he spat, like he'd swallowed poison. His voice was hard and sharp, it reminded Glatt of a knife. Or a broken bottle. Sharp and cold and painful, but if there was one thing Glatt knew deep in his bones, is that before things broke, bad things happened. What bad thing had happened to make Quackity break? “Long fucking gone.”

“Oh.” He said quietly.

Maybe wondering what broke Quackity was a dumb question. They were sat above what used to be Manberg. Quackity had cared so much about that nation, no wonder he was devasted. But it still… it didn’t make _sense_.

Quackity sighed heavily, swinging the dark netherite blade in his hand in a lazy circle. He was so proud of that, when he figured it out. He’d been walking around the white house, throwing anything into a casual arc around his wrist. He never said he was proud – but it showed on his face, with the way he walked and did it at any opportunity. Glatt remembered being proud of him, too. He couldn’t remember if he ever told him.

“Look, Schlatt, I–”

“Glatt.” He interrupted, turning and looking up to face Quackity. He was trying to smile, to make it more natural. Quackity stared back at him flatly, with those knife-edge eyes. “Schlatt was a different guy – we’re not the same.”

That, that he knew for sure.

Quackity blinked, and sighed again. He sat down heavily on the bumpy obsidian, leaning on one arm, one leg propped up and bent. He let his other arm, the one holding his sword, balance on his knee. “Sure. Glatt.”

“I have questions, you know.” He said quickly, interrupting whatever Quackity’s new, unfamiliar, broken bottle voice had to say next.

Quackity snorted in laughter, and it was suddenly so familiar that Glatt felt like he was… years, months, hell, maybe even days ago in the past. In their office, laughing at some dumb comment one of them made. “Yeah, no shit. Not with everything like…” he gestured down, his voice a little less filled with blades. Softer. Safer, maybe.

“Can I ask them?”

A smile pulled at the side of his face, and Quackity looked up – and his eyes caught the horns that curled at the side of Glatt’s face, followed the curve. And his eyes hardened and darkened, and he looked away. “No. I don’t have time to explain all of – _everything_ , to you.” And there was the broken glass. Sharp as ever.

“You could at least tell me what you’re up to.” Glatt muttered, a little selfishly. He just… wanted Quackity back. His Vice President, someone he could rely and count on. His _friend_.

At least, he _thought_ they were friends. Maybe his memory was worse than he thought.

“I tried to kill Technoblade.” Quackity said suddenly. His voice was flat, too busy smothering something else to sharpen the knives he kept there. “I tried to…” he shook his head, eyes watching something a million miles away. “I don’t know. I didn’t plan it out – it was a mess.”

“You tried to kill… _Technoblade_.” Glatt repeated, turning it over in his mind. Technoblade. He recognised the name, could even put a face and a voice to it. But what did he _remember_ , actions wise? Not much. He could faintly recall fireworks, so maybe a party, or festival or something. And screaming.

…Must’ve been one _hell_ of a party.

“Yeah. Call me suicidal, why don’t you.” Quackity muttered, the hand not keeping a tight grip on his sword raised to his face, and he rubbed it against his mouth, the scar. “I didn’t–” he sighed again. “I didn’t plan it properly. I wasn’t thinking straight – I _haven’t_ been thinking straight.”

“When have you ever?” Glatt joked, trying to elbow him in the ribs. His arm passed through Quackity’s side, and the latter grit his iron teeth as he suppressed a shiver.

“But I’m thinking straight, now.” Quackity continued. “I don’t care how many tries it takes me. I’m going to kill him.”

“Technoblade?” Glatt guessed, watching as Quackity stood up. The iron that sat in place of his missing teeth wasn’t the only thing that was cold about him now. It seemed his soul had been forged in metal too.

“No. I’ve got bigger plans now.” He said, eyes scanning over every inch of the empty hole of what used to be Manberg, L’Manberg, whatever it had come to whilst Glatt was away. Quackity started to pace, steps shaky and eyes wild.

“Who, then?” Glatt asked. He wasn’t sure how much interest he actually had in whoever had grabbed Quackity’s interest and apparent bloodlust now, but he had to know. Quackity was being reckless, whatever happened with Technoblade, it’d given him a new scar and taken out half his teeth. And he said he had _bigger_ plans.

“ _Dream._ ” Quackity said, and the razor-sharp edge of his dark blade, magic enchantments rippling over the metal, looked dull and blunt in comparison to his voice. “I’m killing Dream.”

“You’ll kill yourself, trying to do that.” Glatt muttered.

“Oh, I’ve already tried. But I know where I went wrong, now.” He gestured down at the crater. “This? This only happened because fucking _Tommy_ interfered, he’s so concerned with his fucking discs…” Quackity sighed heavily, the weight on the world evident on his shoulders. A young Atlas.

Then he inhaled, and his eyes were alight, in a way that was sickeningly familiar and yet totally alien. “I know what I’m doing now. I won’t make another goddamn mistake.”

“Trying to kill Dream _is_ a mistake,” Glatt tried to say it gently, but his concern bled through messily and it came out rougher than he would’ve liked.

Quackity froze. His eyes were ablaze with an unfamiliar rage, something he’d never had before. Something that _wasn’t_ Quackity.

“I’m not making a mistake.” His voice was thin, like an elastic band being pulled too tight. About to snap. Glatt felt stupid, looking back on it, it was so clearly a warning –

“You’re going to hurt yourself–”

“ _Like you’ve ever given a shit about if I get hurt or not!_ ” Quackity suddenly broke out, the edge in his voice no longer as sharp and cold as it had been, but rough and serrated. Like a knife that’d been made to rip, not cut. The band had snapped.

Glatt blinked, opening his mouth to speak, but Quackity was still talking, mouth going a mile a minute.

“You – you, you’ve _never_ given a shit about what _I_ feel, if _I_ get hurt, it was – it’s always been about _you!_ ” he raved, shaking slightly. Glatt could see the tremor in his blade, the blade that was pointing accusingly at him. Maybe rightly so.

“And you–” Quackity paused; his voice heavy with fury. “How… how _dare_ you pretend to _care_ about if I get hurt, _if I get hurt_ –” He was close to screaming now. “You bastard, you absolute _fucking_ bastard, you know _exactly_ what you did!”

Glatt had raised his arms at some point, in defence, surrender, he wasn’t sure. He stood up, and floated unsteadily to his feet.

“Q, you’re really mad, I get it, but I don’t re–”

“I don’t _care_ if you don’t remember, because I fucking do!” His eyes were bright now, and Glatt hoped he wasn’t about to start crying. He’d never been good with tears. “I remember, I remember every goddamn minute, and it _fucking_ sucks that you’re back,” Quackity continued, chest heaving.

“Why?” Glatt dared to whisper, like a _fool_. “Why is it so bad that I’m–”

“Because _you’re the one who fucking hurt me!_ ” Quackity half-screeched, his voice echoing down through the crater, his voice bouncing off of the stone walls eerily.

They both froze as Quackity’s scream bounced around the ruined remains of L’Manberg, the rough anguished edge of his voice louder than the actual words. Quackity was shaking, the blade he had pointed right at Glatt’s heart unsteady, but his eyes were dark and harder than bedrock.

“Just… get fucking away from me.” Quackity spat, his voice uneven and heavy with fury, but it seemed most of the fire had left him.

“…I’ll go and find Tubbo.” Glatt suggested softly. Quackity was like a lit fuse, and it felt like anything he said would be the equivalent of kicking it as hard as he could. He made to turn away, but Quackity took a few brisk paces to stand in front of him again.

“When you died,” Quackity fixed Glatt with that godawful black, fiery stare. “you know what I felt?”

Glatt didn’t want to give him an answer. He could already feel the conversation fading, the memories blurry but still as sharp as mirror shards.

“Free. I felt _fucking_ free.”

And with that, he turned away, bloodstained apron fluttering in the wind, twirling his sword around his wrist, the rage he’d been shaking with pushing him forward as he walked across the obsidian beams.

Glatt watched him walk, and wondered what on earth had to have happened to make a man like iron.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!! (tysm Sarah for coming up with the title it made me laugh)


End file.
